Potion Problems
by Lil' Quill
Summary: Mishaps ensue as Draco experiments with ingredients, brewing potions for the Ministry of Magic.


A/N: Hey guys, it's me! *gasp* Yes, really! Well, I'm back with the Quidditch Leage Fanfiction Competition, heading straight into Season 4 with Round 1!

As Chaser 2 for the Chudley Cannons, my main prompt is writing about a Death Eater at work.

Here are my optional prompts:

4\. (dialogue) "I really do like the pants."

6\. (word) inappropriate

7\. (class) Herbology

Sit back, relax, and enjoy! ;)

The only sound that filled the pristine office was the rustling of parchment. Now, some may like that sound – in which case, they are most likely insane people who have never taken a test before, as Draco Malfoy would put it.

Yes, Draco Malfoy most definitely wasn't past of that preciously small group, seeing as he was experiencing a rather frustrating crisis.

"Aaargh!" he cried out gruffly, slamming his hand on the table but then quickly retracting it and steadying his brass cauldron, which had almost spilled its contents with his angry movement.

At this opportune moment, an elegant barred owl swooped into the room through the ornate window, left ajar so that the potion's fumes did not suffocate the room. The owl dutifully stuck out its left leg, waiting for Draco to remove the crisp letter tied there.

Draco knew exactly what the letter was: his son Scorpius, now in his Fourth Year, filling him in on the happening of Hogwarts. Though many students of Scorpius's age had stopped regularly sending letters to their parents, Scorpius was one of those precious few who kept in touch with his family. Draco definitely didn't take it for granted as he uncaringly ripped the envelope open. At least this letter would be a bright spot in this rather annoying day, which Draco dearly hoped would soon be over.

 _Hey Dad,_

 _I went on a date with Rose last Saturday. It was wonderful, and I can't get her out of my head. We got drinks at the Three Broomsticks, went shopping for some books, and had a lovely stargazing session from the Astronomy Tower. Rose is such an amazing girl, and I'm so lucky to have this chance with her._

 _If you believed that do is dung I just wrote up there, then I'm not sure you're smart enough to be working for the Ministry of Magic. I asked her out and she rejected me._

 _What new ingredients are you working with, by the way? Has studying all those alchemical manuscripts helped you any? I wish something could help me with Potions, I've got a solid E minus, but you know me, always aiming for more. I'm just too lazy to do a lot of my homework, to be honest. At least I don't have a P like Maurice Finnegan. Albus may or ma not have tossed a Weasley's Wheezes firework into Finnegan's cauldron and forced the entire class to evacuate._

 _Herbology was almost as dreadful as Mum's taste in men (just kidding). There was this tree that looked like a completely harmless apple tree, so I picked one green fruit off. Just to be careful, I sliced it in half to make sure there was nothing suspicious. I smelled it, too. When I took a bite out of it, it made be sprout boils everywhere, and then those boils turned into tentacles, and then I was sent to the Hospital Wing. I missed a very important lesson on caring for Venomous Tentacula, but I am so tired I almost don't even care anymore. Besides, I also missed Albus's and Ciara Kumar's cringe-worthy flirting. I think I've also got detention for the whole tentacle thing, which marks my fifth-second detention of the year. Albus is ahead of me by thirty, and James Sirius Potter and Fred Weasley are tied with two hundred and seventy-nine so far._

 _Anyways, I've asked Mum for some tips on girls. She's already sent them, so there's no need for you to get all mad at her. Rose is cool, and I know you're making an effort to make friends with her family, which I really appreciate._

 _I know this letter is going to arrive sometime during your workday, so don't forget about the potion you've been brewing just so you can talk to me!_

 _Lots of love,_

 _Scorp_

As soon as Draco read that last line before the closing of the letter, his head whipped up and his grey eyes locked onto the cauldron, but it was too late.

The cauldron had erupted, the viscous liquid spilling everywhere. It glowed a brilliant gold as it cascaded down the sturdy, polished wooden desk – enchanted specifically for occurrences like this – devouring all the papers on the desk, save for Scorpius's letter, which Draco had snatched away at the last minute. Frozen, Draco watched in horror as the river of shimmering experimental potion meandered towards his new elegant woolen rug. Then, in one fluid – no pun intended – motion of bravery, Draco whipped the rug away and tossed it onto the tall bookcase.

Unfortunately, some of the liquid had seeped into his robes. Now panicking, Draco hurriedly pulled them off as the liquid ate into them, too. He scrambled up onto one of the bookshelves lining his room, perching himself precariously, knocking over a box of bezoars in the process. A few fell inside the now empty cauldron, while the rest toppled into the ravenous river below and promptly disappeared. One slip and he was done for. From there, he decided to contempalte what to do about this pickle he had gotten himself into.

Then it dawned upon him: he was a goddamn wizard, and he could practically anything he wanted.

One problem, though: his wand was in the pocket of his robes.

Summoning up all of his Slytherin courage, he found a dangerously narrow foothold. Leaning his back against the uncomfortably hard bookcase and catching his breath, bracing himself to act quickly, he yanked his silky black robes from the shelf above his head, where he had thrown them. He examined the frayed ends that had touched the rogue potion with dismay for a split second, then went back to his task. Not daring to lean his head forward and risk losing his balance, Draco blindly stuck his arm into his pocket.

When he heard a wooden clatter, his heart plummeted. There on the floor lay his precious wand.

Staring hopelessly, Draco felt at a complete loss.

All of a sudden, the door was pulled open. Astoria, Draco's wife, stared at the mess, her dark red lips parted. She swiftly pulled out her wand and practically screeched, "Evanesco!"

Draco thanked his lucky stars that his wife was level-headed enough to manage a situation like this. Of course, having a potioneer who just experimented with ingredients and sometimes landed in sticky situations gave her plenty of experience.

And then Draco realized that Astoria had caught him at a rather inappropriate moment. She locked eyes with him, then looked him up and down, her lips curling into a smirk when she noticed that he was in just his boxers.

"Nice pants," she commented, leaning against the doorway.

Draco's cheeks reddened as he jumped down. He ambled over to his cauldron, which sat innocently on the desk.

And then his eyes widened when he looked at it more carefully.

Growing up in a rich Pureblood family, Draco could recognize gold in an instant. And his previously brass cauldron was currenty solid gold. He peered inside and let out a slow whistle. There, where two Bezoars had previously sat, were two shimmering reddish rocks. Having studied countless alchemical papers, Draco knew immediately what they were.

"Astoria, someone alert the Ministry immediately. I think–I think I've become a legitimate alchemist now. I've turned brass into gold. I've made another Philosopher's Stone."

Astoria looked completely shocked for a few moments, then she nodded as the importance of it all dawned on her. "Got it. I'll send an owl." She left the room, but then came back a moment later. "Oh, and Draco?" she said, with a playful light in her eyes.

"Yeah?"

"I really do like the pants. Though I suppose I'd like them even better off of you."

A/N: Annnnd scene! I'd love to hear your thoughts, feedback, and constructive criticism in PMs and reviews!

Ink on!

Lil' Quill


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